


ad astra volat

by quiettewandering



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Angst, Episode Related, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, episode coda
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-05-26 23:12:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15011489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiettewandering/pseuds/quiettewandering
Summary: A series of codas for each Star Trek: The Original Series episode. Each coda is connected and tells an overall story arch of the progression of Spock and Kirk's strengthening yet confusing relationship onboard the Enterprise.





	1. S1, EP1: "the man trap"

**Author's Note:**

> [ad astra volat = he flies to the stars]
> 
> One chapter = one coda.  
> One coda = clueless Captain & Vulcan officer slowly falling hopelessly in love with each other throughout the series.
> 
> I'm going to try to post one or two codas a week, life permitting - so feel free to subscribe, because there's more to come :)

Spock hesitates before stepping close enough to the door to trigger it opening. His feet had taken him to sickbay, where he knows undoubtedly Dr. McCoy currently resides, on almost a whim. His brain hasn’t quite caught up yet. Hands clasped firmly behind his back, he continues to stare at the grey granules of the door, faltering.

He knows that this borders on unprofessionalism; emotionalism. But in his mind’s eye he sees the captain: sitting in a chair, immobilized, with the creature’s suctioned hand on his face, normally vibrant eyes staring ahead unseeingly, devoid of life… 

It’s a powerful enough image to jolt his body into action, mind made up, emotions firmly pushed back into their rightful place. 

The doctor looks up as the swish of the door announces Spock’s entrance. McCoy is bent over a desk, placing his writing utensil down onto a thick folder of paper. “Well, Spock,” he says slowly, “didn’t expect you to be here at this hour. What can I do you for?”

Spock stands in front of the doctor at parade rest, feet planted. “I wished to discuss something with you, doctor.”

“And it couldn’t wait until a more  _ logical  _ time of the morning?”

“Since you are, currently, working both the night and day shift of sickbay and are consequently here at early hours, I saw no reason that you would be disturbed by my request.” 

McCoy seems to bite back a glare with an impatient smile. “Why don’t you tell me what you need, Spock, so I can get back to my work.”

“Very well.” There’s a voice nagging in the back of Spock’s mind, one that has a familiar Vulcan somber tone. It says to let it go, to leave. He ignores it and pushes forward. “I want to discuss the way you handled yourself in your quarters; when that creature attacked the captain.” 

McCoy’s complexion darkens. “The way I ‘handled’ myself?” he repeats. 

“Yes. The emotionalism you displayed was unprofessional and not to mention, dangerous.”

Advancing forward a step, McCoy’s voice goes low and quiet as he demands, “Explain what in the hell you mean, Mr. Spock.” 

Spock refuses to be deterred. “The captain was in mortal danger, and still you stood by and hesitated for long moments while the creature began to kill him. A starship cannot have a crewmember lets his or her own weaknesses get the better of them in a dire situation. Especially not where the captain is concerned. Therefore, I suggest—”

“All right now  _ listen _ , you green-blooded hooligan,” McCoy cuts in, jabbing a finger in Spock’s face. “I’ve kept my mouth shut up till now. Jim keeps ranting about how great you are—so I’ve kept my thoughts to myself. But now you’ve gone just too far.” He steps forward and Spock sees the skin under McCoy’s left eye twitch. “My  _ weaknesses?  _ You mean compassion for another life? You think I’m some cold-blooded killer that can pick up a phaser and kill a creature, just like that?”

“When the captain’s life is in danger, yes.”

“I wouldn’t have let Jim  _ die _ ! You could stand to learn a little bit about humans, Spock. It’s natural to have hesitation before taking drastic and violent action against something.” McCoy narrows his eyes. “Or does that not compute in that perfect, cold and unemotional brain of yours?”

Spock raises an eyebrow. That callous comment felt uncalled for; but he doesn’t acknowledge it aloud. 

“That creature was the last of its kind,” McCoy continues, “and was lonely. Desperate and lonely. Do you even know what that feels like?”

Spock thins his lips, retorting, “Loneliness is an emotion.”

McCoy to bursts out a sigh. “Of course. You wouldn’t get it, so why do I try to explain it.” 

“Doctor.” Spock’s voice has an edge to it that he unsuccessfully tries to suppress. “The subject of emotions and whether I feel them is As someone who should have the captain and crew’s best interest in mind, you ought to acknowledge that your actions could have resulted in a very fatal end for the captain.” 

“Whaddaya want me to do, Spock, rip my own heart out so I never feel anything again?”

Spock impatiently grips the edge of the desk beside him. “Doctor—”

“Or maybe you want everyone to be as emotionless and heartless as you, and not even think about the value of a creature’s life!” 

“ _ Enough!”  _ Spock’s fist causes the desk to creak as it bends, warped, from his grip at the same time that his voice raises. It seems to echo in the empty sickbay as McCoy stares at him, astounded. 

“I find this conversation circular and unfruitful,” Spock says through barely unclenched teeth. “I just wanted to express my worries at the past situation, and advise you not to do it again.” 

McCoy crosses his arms against his chest, staring at him challengingly. “Or you’ll do what?”

Spock’s hands grip themselves enough to bruise as he places them against the small of his back. “I assure you that if you endanger Captain Kirk’s life again in any way, I will see you that you are off the _ Enterprise _ .” 

McCoy replies, almost sneering, “And, Mr. Spock, if  _ you  _ endanger Captain Kirk’s life with your unemotional behavior, I’ll see that  _ you  _ are kicked off of this damn ship.”

Spock allows his eyebrow to twitch minutely before spinning on his heel to exit. The door barely gets its chance to open before he storms out of sickbay. He can hear McCoy’s curses while Spock walks quickly down the hallway in the direction of the lift. 

During the ride to the level of his quarters, he keeps his mind carefully blank. Meditation will solve what he feels; cool his thoughts. He never should have acted out in emotionalism to see McCoy in the first place. It was something about the way that the Captain’s life teetered at the edge, and Spock could do nothing about it from his position. That he was useless to help his Captain, his—

Spock’s fists clench against the thought. Meditation. It will solve this.

He is nearly to the door of his quarters when he hears his name. 

“Mr. Spock, do you have a moment?”

Spock takes a breath to steady himself, then turns to face the concerned captain. “Of course, sir.”

Captain Kirk takes a breath, opening his mouth but pausing, as if not sure where to begin. “I just had a comm from Bones. He was pretty upset.”

“I see.”

“Amidst all the swear words, I heard your name quite a few times.”

“Indeed?” Spock asks cooly.

Kirk slowly nods. “Something about… professional harassment?” His eyes search Spock’s impassive gaze. “You wouldn’t happen to know what he’s talking about, do you, Spock?”

Straightening, Spock fixates on a point past the Captain’s eye level. “I merely relegated my concerns to the doctor of his emotional display this evening, that put many people in potential danger.”

“Ah.” Kirk stares at the ground, chewing his lip in thought. When he looks up at Spock again, his eyes are disarmingly somber. “I wouldn’t worry too much about it, Spock. Bones is cut up as it is about the whole situation. And yes, I know you don’t agree with human emotionalism—but Bones is a good man. You can’t fault him for a faltering moment, on his part.” 

Spock, thoroughly disagreeing, nods slowly. “Yes, Captain.”

Kirk smiles gently. “I know you don’t believe me. But perhaps one day you’ll understand, being half human yourself.”

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes to the ceiling at the comment, Spock nods again. 

Kirk reaches out and claps him on the shoulder. “Well, it’s been a long day,” he says. “Time to get some sleep.” He turns on his heel, begins to walk toward his own quarters that are directly next to Spock’s.

The word is out of Spock’s mouth before he can stop it. “Captain…”

Kirk turns; green eyes catching the artificial light of the hallway. “Yes, Mr. Spock?”

For a moment, Spock wonders how it would feel: to not only acknowledge his relief at the fact that Jim is now alive, but to also tell his captain that he felt that way at all. To succumb to this impulse to act as though Jim were a friend in a human way; it would be thoroughly un-Vulcan. And yet, for a moment, Spock couldn’t care less about what is Vulcan or not.

But it’s only for a moment. Straightening his spine and clasping his hands behind his back, Spock assumes a professional parade rest. “It is nothing, Captain. I will report to you on the Alpha shift at 0600 hours.”

Captain Kirk pauses, looking at him strangely. A smile dances on his lips. “Very well. Goodnight, Mr. Spock.”

 

Spock finds, inexplicably, that his meditation is tumultuous that night.

  
  



	2. S1, EP2: Charlie X

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock is confused and unsettled by Kirk's words to Charlie.

_ “You need me to run the ship, and I need him.” _

Spock stares, eyes narrowed, at the white bishop chess piece in front of him. Captain Kirk is a silent watcher on the other side of the chess board, waiting patiently for Spock’s move. 

The events of having Charlie on the ship have quieted the crew; the hallways were empty when Spock walked to his captain’s quarters just an hour ago. Everyone is recovering, confused from his destructive presence. But Spock’s confused for different reasons. Those eleven words that Captain Kirk said to Charlie: they’re what Spock can’t tug from his mind.

_ I need him,  _ echoes Captain Kirk’s voice in his mind.

He’s never been told, albeit indirectly, that he’s  _ needed  _ before.

“Something the matter, Mr. Spock?”

Startled, Spock looks up to regard Kirk’s gaze. “Nothing, sir. Merely pondering my next move.”

“Well, make it quick,” Kirk says, picking up his glass of Saurian brandy, “or else I’ll already have mapped a way to beat you in my head.” His grin is barely hidden behind the rim of the glass.

Spock knows that his captain is waiting for a quip back in lieu of their usual banter. Instead he traps Kirk’s king in the left corner on the third level and announces, “Check.”

Kirk’s smile grows wider as he reaches out, smoothly evading. “See? You took so long, I could already see that move miles away.”

Spock raises an eyebrow. “But Captain, you’ve been across from me this whole game. How could I be miles from your person? Furthermore, how do you imagine that the human sight would—”

Laughing, Kirk waves his hand, saying, “Just play the damn game, Spock.”

Spock tilts his head in agreement. As they continue, with every move, he weaves through the illogical statement:  _ I need him.  _

Could Kirk have meant that he needed him to run the ship? 

Impossible. Kirk is captain, and the death or incapacity of a First Officer would not grind the whole operation to a halt. Upon Spock’s death, the ship could continue as usual; his skill could be replaced. 

The death of a captain, however, would be a different story. Spock quickly moves from that point, resolutely placing his knight in front of Kirk’s.

As he watches Kirk’s brow knit in concentration, a new thought: perhaps Kirk meant that he needed Spock’s scientific skills. To figure out why Charlie had this power, and how to stop it. That was fully logical. 

However, Kirk also had a dedicated science team that he could easily put to the task. And navigating to Colony 5 does not require any special star-mapping or navigating around scientific anomalies. 

No; it could not be that. 

“Check,” Kirk announces proudly. 

Spock stares at the board. He tries to analyze the situation in front of him, to find a way to protect his king. Instead another explanation, a more terrifying explanation, materializes in his mind: perhaps Kirk needed him… emotionally? As more than a first officer?

As a friend?

No, Spock decides as he protects his king with his bishop, Kirk has many friends. The absence of Spock’s friendship would not be noticed by Kirk; not for long, anyhow. 

Spock doesn’t even know if Kirk considers him a friend. So, illogical.

Then what—

“Checkmate.” 

Spock blinks. “But I have protected my king.” 

Kirk taps the black tile from where his knight came. “But I, my dear Mr. Spock, was able to jump.” 

Spock shakes his head, mostly in disbelief at himself. “The game is yours, then.” He moves to put the pieces back in their place.

Kirk runs a hand over his mouth, thoughtfully watching Spock. “How do you think the crew’s rapport is, Spock? After the whole business with Charlie?”

“I am not sure if I’m the best person to ask on that matter, Captain,” Spock says as he carefully uprights his king. “Perhaps Doctor McCoy would better serve to answer.”

“But I’d like to know what you think.”

Spock raises his eyes to meet his captain’s; they are open, inviting, wholly wanting Spock’s answer. “Charlie was a disruptive and upsetting presence,” Spock says carefully, “but I think the crew is resilient. Prepared to deal with unexpected situations, albeit dangerous situations, such as this. It is why they were able to complete their Starfleet training and come aboard one of the best ships in the fleet.”

That tugs a smile from Kirk’s mouth. “Well said, Mr. Spock.” He takes a thoughtful sip of brandy. “I do feel sorry for him, you know.”

“Of Charlie, sir?”

“Yes. I tried my best to teach him things; the things he wouldn’t have learned without human interaction or a father figure.” Kirk runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head. “It didn’t seem to do much good.”

“While Charlie’s situation was unfortunate, it was not your job to fix it,” Spock says.

“Oh yes, I know that,” Kirk says with a wave of his hand. “But I wanted to. He obviously looked up to me, to teach him what was right and wrong and I…” Kirk looks at his hands. “I failed him.”

Spock ceases to put chess pieces in their place, lowering his hands into his lap. He stares at Kirk thoughtfully, unable to piece together why the captain seemed so upset over a boy he barely knew. A boy that was destructive and borderline sociopathic, nonetheless. 

“It is my firm belief, Captain, that Charlie was beyond help,” Spock says to the top of the bent golden head. “He refused to listen to your advice or really work to try and understand what he didn’t. It is impossible to change a being’s viewpoint or will if they do not wish to.” 

When the captain raises his head, clearly listening to Spock’s words, he continues more boldly, “And it is no one’s fault, especially not your own, that Charlie chose to act so. They’re his decisions, not yours.”

Kirk sighs. “You’re right, of course. I told him that he can’t have everything he wants. That it’s just life; that it isn’t fair sometimes. But he refused to listen.” 

“I agree with your advice, Captain. Life often does in fact give us the opposite of what we desire.”

“But it’s such a... _ sad  _ way of thinking. No wonder he didn’t like to hear that. Or accept it.” 

“Perhaps. But in my experience, it’s the truth.”

“Yes.” Kirk raises his head to regard the white alabaster walls of his cabin. “I suppose.” Straightening his back, and seeming to visually shake himself out of his gloomy mood, Kirk asks lightly, “And you, Spock? What do  _ you  _ want out of life?” 

Spock blinks. “Me, sir?”

He laughs. “No, the other Vulcan in the room.” The captain waves the brandy glass in the air before taking a cursory sip. “Out of life, Spock. What frustrates you that  _ you _ can’t have?”

Darting his eyes toward the chess pieces, towards Kirk’s hand resting on the opposite side of the table, the word is out of Spock’s mouth before he can close the drawbridge. “Acceptance.”

Kirk stills, staring at him. Spock gulps embarrassingly and fusses with straightening a bishop. He doesn’t look at Kirk again, even when he hears:

“Acceptance... I can understand that. All creatures in space need acceptance. Without that, we have no community. Lack of acceptance can breed violence.”

“And loneliness,” Spock murmurs. 

The captain’s light laugh draws his head up. “But surely you’re not lonely, Mr. Spock? On a starship with four-hundred-and-twenty people?”

“Four-hundred-and-twenty-one,” Spock quickly corrects.

“How do you mean?”

“You did not include yourself in the total calculation of the number of people on the ship. You are correct that I am not lonely, amongst a starship of four-hundred-and-twenty- _ one _ people.”

Kirk leans forward, smile wide and bright. “Ah, I see, Mr. Spock. And this number is quite crucial, I take it? That you count the  _ one  _ in the equation?”

“Indeed, Captain.” Spock finds that he is fighting a small smile of his own. There’s a strange feeling in his chest; a lightness.

The captain shakes his head and grins. “Whatever would I do without that calculating brain of yours, Mr. Spock?”

“I hope that you shall never have to find out, Captain.”

They begin their second chess game. There is nothing overly consequential about it, what with Kirk’s usual quipped remarks and Spock’s occasional exasperated comment on the illogical moves of his strategy. But now Spock has an insight; a problem that once perplexed him is now solved. 

_ I need him.  _

If Spock were to step into Jim’s shoes, to truly contemplate his own motivations for uttering such words: well, he can understand it. 

The feelings that he has for Kirk—the  _ needing _ , no matter how confusing—is surprisingly, perfectly understandable.

Perfectly logical.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer: i have no idea how many people are truly on the Enterprise. I remember at some point Kirk saying 420. just don't quote me on these numbers. :) 
> 
> [come say hi to me on tumblr, if you'd like!](https://spockfallsinlove.tumblr.com)


	3. S1, EP 3: Where No Man Has Gone Before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim learns to let his emotional guard down in front of Spock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [note: since this was the second pilot, technically, I headcanon that it takes place pretty soon after Jim takes command of the Enterprise. So I'm backpedaling a little bit on Spock and Jim's relationship - showing what it would be like for them first having those moments of friendship together]

Jim watches as the cursor on the empty document blinks at him intimidatingly. He stares at it for countless minutes before the computer screen flickers into auto-sleep. 

The letter that he was drafting to Gary’s parents disappears from view.

Jim continues to stare at the dark computer screen, expression blank. He can’t write the damn thing anyway. Couldn’t even get past addressing their names. Every time he did, his mind flashed back to the academy days; when he first met them. 

“Take care of our Gary,” they had said before the Enterprise left for its mission. “Make sure he doesn’t get into any trouble.”

Jim sighs and lowers his head into his hands. He knows what his father would say, if he knew about this: failure. Slow to act. Unqualified.

As par the course, his father’s voice and Jim’s inner voice tangle together in a malicious maelstrom of words directed at himself. His fingertips dig into his scalp and he suddenly feels exhausted, like he could sleep for days. 

A knock at his door interrupts his self-flagellation. He lifts his head and keeps his tone even when he asks, “Yes, what is it?”

“It is Spock, Captain. Is the hour too late?” 

Jim scrubs a hand over his face before standing and pressing the button on the panel for the door to open. “Not too late at all,” he says to the Vulcan standing before him.

Spock nods and steps into the room, the door swishing shut behind him. “I won’t be long.” 

“It’s really not a problem, Spock. Do you want anything? I was about to make some coffee.”

Spock shakes his head. “No thank you, sir. Are there remaining reports to fill out? Perhaps I could be of assistance.”

“No, no reports,” Jim says with a wave of his hand. He flicks on the replicator. “Just letters of condolences… for the lives lost on the mission.”

“I can assist, if you like.”

“I’m the captain, Spock,” Jim says, if a little too firmly. “It’s my responsibility. I’ll do it.” The replicator chimes its completion and Jim takes the paper cup of coffee. He leans against his desk and takes a sip. “So?” he prompts.

If anything, Spock stands straighter. “I wished to discuss something that is of great concern—something that has occurred during the events of the last 24 hours.”

Resisting the urge to groan in frustration, Jim asks, “And what concern might that be?” 

“I wish to know your motivations behind why you did not let me gain consciousness before confronting Gary Mitchell so that I may assist you. Or why, at the very least, you did not call for assistance from the ship so as to aid you.”

Jim takes another steadying sip of coffee. “I don’t see how that’s concerning, Mr. Spock. Or how my motivations are your business.” 

“It is my business when it concerns the safety of the crew.”

Jim glares at Spock over the rim of his cup. “The safety of the crew is the reason  _ why  _ I went in there alone. Gary was out of control and dangerous. It was my fault for not acting sooner, therefore my responsibility to take care of him.” 

“You ordered the ship to leave without you if you were not back in due time,” Spock replies. “You were expecting to die.”

“You don’t know that.” Jim turns and sets his coffee on the desk with an unsteady hand. “I have reports to do,” he says by way of dismissal. 

Spock nods. He turns, as if to leave, then thinks twice of it and turns to face Jim more fully. “I do not know why you insist on being independent in all things concerning the ship. It is most illogical.”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

Spock raises his eyes above Jim’s eye-line as his mind seems to carefully pick out the facts to present to Jim, one by one. “In the 24.89 days since you have boarded the Enterprise, 84.6% of decisions have been made by you and you alone, without consulting either Mr. Scott or myself. In fact, the only consultation you have asked of me has happened only twice in our total time together thus far as captain and first officer.”

“So you’re feeling left out, is that it?” Jim asks bitterly.

Spock blinks at him and tilts his head to the side. Jim has catalogued one of these rare human tendencies as Spock showing confusion. “On the contrary, Captain. It is not a matter of whether or not my ego is catered to. An autonomous captain is a dangerous one; that is why hierarchies of power exist to assist any captain with his duties.” He stares pointedly at Jim when he says, “The captain is only one man, after all.” 

“The captain also has the responsibility of the whole crew,” Jim argues. “Not only do I have to make the tough and occasionally unpopular decisions, I have to inspire confidence in my leadership abilities. How the hell do I do that, if I’m constantly asking my first officer what to do?” He steps forward at Spock’s silence. “Well?”

“I am here for counsel,” Spock calmly replies. “To offer an opposing opinion and differing views on a situation.” He takes a small breath before saying, “It is not weakness to seek advice, Captain.”

At the understanding in Spock’s eyes, Jim feels all the anger deflate from him. He sags against the desk and shakes his head, staring at the ground. “I’m sorry, Spock. The whole situation with Gary… it has me on edge. Of course, you’re right. You’re always right.”

“I fail to see how that is statistically possible, Captain.” But there is a hint of a smile in Spock’s face when Jim looks up at him. In the enduring silence, Spock ventures, “As for inspiring confidence in your abilities, you need not worry about mine. There is little you can do to make me lose the respect I have already gained for your abilities and character.”

Jim sputters a laugh. “Geez, Spock, buy me dinner first,” he laughs. At Spock’s confused look, he waves a hand. “Just… thank you. For saying that.”

Spock tilts his head. “Of course.” 

Jim stares at his hands. He weaves his fingers in and out of each other, rubbing his palms together nervously. Something about Spock’s unemotional, calm stance makes him feel comfortable to blurt out, “Gary was my friend, you know.”

“Yes, I remember you mentioning it.” 

“At the academy, he… he was one of the cadets that would tease me behind my back. But he was nice, good-natured.” 

Spock slowly sits in the chair opposite of Jim, hands folded in his lap. “He was an excellent lieutenant, from what I knew of his job performance,” he offers.

Jim grins. “Yes, he was. A damn workaholic, although he would never let anyone know that.” Jim lets out a humorless laugh, saying, “His parents, they… told me to look out for him. And now I have to…” He feels tears threatening to surface; he blinks them away. “Now I have to tell them, that… well, that I failed.” 

Spock leans forward in his chair. For a self-proclaimed unemotional being, his eyes are fierce. “Captain, your line of thinking is illogical. You can  _ not  _ have failed, when you were the one that defended the fact that Gary could still be helped, even when hope for him seemed lost.”

“My indecision almost got the whole ship killed,” Jim murmurs. “Almost got the world killed, not to mention.”

“I disagree.” Spock meets Jim’s eyes. “You did everything you could.”

His conviction is so strong that Jim almost believes him. He smiles at his first officer, feeling something warm unfurl in his chest. “It’s Jim,” he says, softly.

Spock blinks at him. “Sir?”

“Call me Jim, Spock.” He gives a small, self-conscious shrug. “When we’re off duty, at least.” 

Maybe Jim’s getting better at reading Spock’s expressions, or perhaps he’s going crazy imagining things, because he swears he sees a smile tug at Spock’s mouth when he replies, “Very well. Jim.” 

Jim ignores that strange light feeling in his chest he gets again when he hears Spock say his name. “Thank you.”

There’s a pause with Jim and Spock staring at each other, not quite sure how to proceed, before Spock rises to his feet swiftly. “I believe it’s time for me to meditate,” he says. 

Jim straightens, pushing himself off his desk. “Oh. Of course.” He gestures to the space between them. “Thank you, for… bringing to attention your concerns. I …” Jim clears his throat. “I am … a little on edge. Being it hasn’t even been a month since I’ve been captain, and crewmembers are already dead… Well. Any feedback, any… advice. It’s very appreciated if not always perfectly well- received.”

Spock nods. “Rest assured, Captain, I will continue to voice my concern and opinions when needed.” 

“I have no doubt that you will, Mr. Spock.” 

“Goodnight, Captain.” 

In the wake of the door sliding shut, Jim sighs and sinks into his desk chair. He stares at the dark computer screen, chin cupped in his hand, for a long moment. 

Shaking himself from his reverie, he boots his computer back online. The cursor on the empty condolence document blinks at him; it is less intimidating than before. 

_ There is little you can do to make me lose the respect I have already gained for your abilities and character,  _ echoes Spock’s words in his mind.

Jim sits straighter in his chair and begins slowly typing out the letter by the blue light of the computer screen. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love comments! And I especially love to know how you think the codas are so far. Any feedback is so appreciated.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much for reading <3 if you have any suggestions or something you'd like to see in upcoming codas, comment below :) 
> 
> also come visit me [on my tumblr](https://spockfallsinlove.tumblr.com/) for writing updates or to rewatch the episodes with me!


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